


Hidden Onstage

by Android_And_Ale



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Acapella, Collaborator!Cisco, Fake Elon Musk, Fluff, Gen, Harry Poses as a Harrison Wells impersonator, Pretty Good Bill Gates, The things you do to avoid being arrested for your doppleganger's crimes, Unconvincing Ray Palmer, five man band, silliness for its own sake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-23
Updated: 2018-02-23
Packaged: 2019-03-22 20:50:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13772274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Android_And_Ale/pseuds/Android_And_Ale
Summary: “The problem is our boy Randolf is a little too good at his job,” said Fake Elon Musk. Wells shoved his hands in his pockets and stared humbly at the floor. “I mean, look at that! He’s even got the dimples! Before the real Wells died this man was the 63rd most requested celebrity impersonator in North America!”Wells gave his best aw-shucks smile at the praise. “I still get a few weird gigs,” he said. “Mostly murder mystery theme parties.”“And private BDSM events at tech conferences,” added Unconvincing Ray Palmer. “A lot of people still want to get spanked by the ghost of Dr. Harrison Wells.”Fake Elon Musk put a hand over his friend’s mouth. “Look, we don’t judge. Money is hard to come by for someone in his position.” His brief glare suggested they’d had this conversation before.Captain Singh looked genuinely confused. “What do you want from us?”





	Hidden Onstage

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in response to DramaticInsanity's Tumblr post asking why the hell Harry Wells hasn't been arrested on Earth-1. 
> 
> http://dramaticinsanity.tumblr.com/post/171182653592/politeandnotgay-df841-a-harry-earth-2-rant
> 
> If you asked The Flash's writers I'm sure they'd down another shot and mumble something about Flashpoint. 
> 
> I like my answer better.

“Joe!” Captain Singh stuck his head into Detective Joe West’s office. “With me. NOW. You’ve got some explaining to do.”

Joe grabbed his jacket. “Whatever Cisco’s done, I promise I didn’t authorize it.”

Singh paused. “Wait. What?”

Police officers and detectives flowed around them, hurrying to the lobby. Several seemed to be watching live security footage on their phones. A wave of applause simultaneously echoed from the lobby and tinny speakers in dozens of hands. Someone shouted, “Encore!”

Singh squeezed into the packed lobby, Joe on his heels. Just under the split spiral staircase, a quintet of men bowed at the waist, grinning cheekily at the applause.

At one end was a man who could almost pass as Elon Musk if you squinted right. Next to him was a muscular Superman type who didn’t really look anything like Ray Palmer despite his PalmerTek t-shirt. He had an arm around the shoulder of a pretty convincing Bill Gates. Beside him, Cisco Ramon inexplicably wore a red women’s pant suit and with a long statement necklace made from half a dozen colors and gauges of electronics wiring. Holding up the end of the line was Harry Wells in a bad brown wig, holding his pulse rifle. It looked like Cisco glued some random LED’s on the front.

Before Singh could push his way through the crowd, Fake Elon Musk started them in an acapella rendition of Jonathan Coulton’s “Still Alive.”

When they sang, “ _the science gets done, and you make a neat gun_ ,”  Wells pushed a button that made a dramatic “Pew! Pew!” noise as the unnecessary LED’s lit up. The cops near the front chuckled. Several were recording the entire performance on their cameras.

Joe facepalmed. “I am too old for this,” he muttered.

Singh laughed. “Yeah, with two sons around the house you must hear the theme song from Portal in your sleep.”

Captain Singh waited until the singers finished explaining that the cake was a lie before pushing forward. “Alright! Break it up! Everybody back to your desks!”

The quintet waited sheepishly beneath the staircase.

“Captain Singh!” Fake Elon musk opened his arms wide. “Just the man we wanted to see!”

Joe stared at Harry Wells. “Why?”

Pretty Good Bill Gates followed Joe’s glance. “Because of that,” he said, pointing between the detective and Harry.

Joe held up his hands. “I have nothing to do with this!”

“No, no, of course not.” Fake Elon Musk soothed, “But as you can see, our boy Randolf has had a hard time of things lately.” He pointed at Harry Wells. Wells waved shyly.

“There’s not a lot of demand for a celebrity impersonator when your celebrity disappears,” said the Unconvincing Ray Palmer. “I can still do Superman at birthday parties, but that’s nothing compared to body double money I used to make at tech conventions or an all nighter throwing paparazzi off with fake dates.”  

Captain Singh cocked an eyebrow at Cisco. “Who are you supposed to be?”

“Sheryl Sandberg,” Cisco replied. He pointed at the Facebook pin on his lapel.

Joe rubbed his forehead. “Don’t quit your day job.”

“We need the CCPD’s help,” said Pretty Good Bill Gates.

“Don’t tell me somebody murdered fake Steve Wozniak,” said Singh.

Wells laughed, “No, he’s got a gig in Coast City this weekend.” The three professional impersonators looked envious.

“The problem is our boy Randolf is a little too good at his job,” said Fake Elon Musk. Wells shoved his hands in his pockets and stared humbly at the floor. “I mean, look at that! He’s even got the dimples! Before the real Wells died this man was the 63rd most requested celebrity impersonator in North America!”

Wells gave his best aw-shucks smile at the praise. “I still get a few weird gigs,” he said. “Mostly murder mystery theme parties.”

“And private BDSM events at tech conferences,” added Unconvincing Ray Palmer. “A lot of people still want to get spanked by the ghost of Dr. Harrison Wells.”

Fake Elon Musk put a hand over his friend’s mouth. “Look, we don’t judge. Money is hard to come by for someone in his position.” His brief glare suggested they’d had this conversation before.

Captain Singh looked genuinely confused. “What do you want from us?”

“I get, well, a lot of death threats,” said Wells. “And attempted citizens arrests.”

“And he gets shot at,” added Pretty Good Bill Gates.

“And punched,” added unconvincing Ray Palmer.

“A lot,” said Cisco. He gave Wells shoulder a sympathetic pat.

“Like I said, our boy is too good at his job!” said Fake Elon Musk.

“We were hoping there was some kind of official paperwork I could show people to prove I’m not him,” said Wells.

“It’s called a driver’s license,” said Singh.

The acapella band of tech impersonators laughed. As one, they dug out their wallets and removed fake ID’s from half a dozen states under their respective celebrities names.

“If you read the fine print on back it says these are for entertainment purposes only,” said Fake Elon Musk.

“Kids like us to hold them up in their Instagram photos,” added Pretty Good Bill Gates. “It gives them credibility with their followers.”

Wells gave Singh his best hangdog look. “Honestly, it would change my life if you could give me  something on CCPD stationary with a number they can call to confirm that the real Harrison Wells is, in fact, dead.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” said Joe.

Singh stroked his beard. “It’s not a bad idea. We still get at least two calls a week from people who claim that Wells faked his death and is hiding out at Jitters.”

“That’d be me,” Wells sounded sheepish. “I do love my coffee.”

“So what’s with the performance?” Singh made hard eye contact with Cisco.

“He’s the only one of us with a real police ID,” said Fake Elon Musk.

“He said he could get us into the station without raising suspicion,” Wells added. “I’ve tried to schedule an actual appointment for weeks, but the receptionist refuses to transfer me to your personal assistant.”

“Way to stay in character,” Cisco whispered to Wells.

“What?” he looked confused.

Fake Elon Musk cleared his throat, silencing the two men. “Cisco also suggested  that if enough officers saw Randolf in context, they might remember that the guy ahead of them in line at Jitters isn’t actually a notorious murderer.”

Singh was still staring at Cisco. “If you put this much thought into your actual work I might invite you to the next CDC disaster drill.”

“The one where they’re rehearsing for the next Spanish Flu or the California Earthquake simulation?” Cisco perked up.

Singh crossed his arms. “Rumor has it they’re working on an alien invasion simulation.”

“Hold my earrings,” Cisco said to Pretty Good Bill Gates. “I might need to fight for this.”

“Alright, Cisco. You made your point,” Singh laughed.  “Joe, type up something official looking on CCPD stationary for this man to carry around and add a copy to the official Harrison Wells file. And Randolf, get some contact lenses and a shirt in any color but black. You’re not doing yourself any favors.”

Singh walked away, still chuckling. Cisco beamed at the tech impersonators. “Great job, guys!” He took turns hugging them all. “I’ll see you for rehearsal next Tuesday!”

Fake Elon Musk, Pretty Good Bill Gates, and Unconvincing Ray Palmer waved goodbye and headed out of the station. On their way out, a few straggling officers stopped them for selfies. Meanwhile, Cisco and Harry followed Joe to his desk.

“What the hell do you two idiots think you’re playing at?” Joe hissed.

“It worked,” said Harry.

“You really think those morons are gonna lie for you forever?” Joe pointed at Unconvincing Ray Palmer, who was using a bit of spit to style his bangs into superman’s iconic curl before posing for another photo.

“They’re not lying,” Cisco whispered. “I met Fake Elon Musk at C.E.S. last year. His fake Steve Jobs was arrested in Reno, so he needed backup singers for the big Nerdist.com party. I told him the best I could do was a really convincing Harrison Wells.”

“Why would you go along with this dumb plan?” Joe asked Harry.

“It’s good for my cover,” said Harry. “And I got free admission to your C.E.S.”

“I made him a website and everything.” Cisco handed Joe a business card for Randolf Morgan, Harrison Wells impersonator and BDSM dom for hire. “We do 1-2 gigs with them a month. Harry and Fake Elon Musk open our act with a pretty good tech comedy routine.” Cisco twirled one of his curls, smiling proudly at Harry.

“This is never gonna work,” said Joe.

A beat cop stopped by Joe’s desk. “Mind if I get a selfie with these two?” Joe rolled his eyes as the cop re-positioned Harry’s pulse rifle so there were more flashing LED’s in the picture. “Let me know when you guys are performing again. My sister is a coder. She’s gonna be so pissed she missed this!” He gave them both a cheery thumbs up before jogging off to catch Fake Elon Musk.

“You were saying?” Harry raised an eyebrow at the detective.

Joe pulled out a piece of official CCPD stationary. “I’ve died and gone to hell.”

 


End file.
